Tag Archives: rural life

Dust in the Wind ©️

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Out past Yazoo, the shack leaned into the dirt. Not a house, no, a shack. Floor was earth, roof was tin, boards thin as breath. He lived there. Lived as if waiting.

One day he reached for the guitar. Cracked body, rusted strings, but still it held. He struck a note. The note struck back. Low, raw, river-deep.

He played.

And the days bent, the nights bent, all bent into sound. Fingers tore, bled, healed, tore again. The shack groaned, the tin rattled, the Delta listened. He was not playing. The Delta was.

Neighbors said they heard it in the wind, miles off — a cry, a prayer, a knife. Was it sorrow? Was it God? They argued. He did not answer. He kept playing.

Until it stopped.

Silence fell heavier than sound. He laid the guitar down, gentle, like a body. Stood. Gathered boots, knife, shirt. Walked into the road. Did not look back.

Some say he went north. Some say west. Some say he never left. On certain nights, when the Delta swells with heat and the moon hangs swollen, the shack still hums. Strings vibrate with no hand. The earth itself remembers.

Bootsteps and Lullabies ©️

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He big. He got boots that make loud sounds and he say my name like a song but also like a truck. He smell like outside and hot sauce and hugs. I don’t know all the words he say, but I like the way he say ‘em. He say, “You got a strong back, boy. Gonna be tough like your daddy, maybe tougher.” I don’t know what that mean, but I laugh and he laugh too, and then we go outside and I hold a stick like him. He talks like a cowboy but not the scary kind. He talks like he knows the sky and the dirt and why dogs bark.

He call me “little man” and tell me “you ain’t gotta cry for nothin’ that don’t bleed.” Mama say “Don’t tell him that!” but I think it sound brave. He pick me up high and I see everything—trees, sun, his truck. He let me sit on his lap when he drive slow down the field, and he say, “Don’t tell your mama,” but I do anyway and she say “Lord help me.” I like when he come ‘cause he makes the house full. Full of words and stories and smiles that feel like firecrackers inside me.

Sometimes I don’t know what he means but it don’t matter ‘cause I know he loves me big. Bigger than his voice. Bigger than his truck. Maybe bigger than the whole world.

Hillbilly Haiku ©️

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The Devil Made Me Do It ©️

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Gulp, Gulp

Rajesh Verma

In a small village in northern India, a heartwarming story has recently unfolded that showcases the power of community and kindness. The village, located in the state of Uttar Pradesh, has been facing severe water shortages due to a prolonged drought. The situation became so dire that many villagers had to walk several kilometers every day just to fetch drinking water.

In response to this crisis, a group of local women, led by a determined schoolteacher named Pooja, decided to take matters into their own hands. Recognizing the need for a sustainable solution, they initiated a community-driven project to revive an old, dried-up well that had been abandoned for years.

The project began with Pooja rallying the villagers, gathering both men and women to clear the debris, dig deeper, and reinforce the walls of the well. They pooled their resources, using whatever tools they could find, and worked tirelessly for weeks under the scorching sun. The village’s children even pitched in during their school holidays, carrying buckets of earth and offering their support.

As news of the villagers’ efforts spread, the story reached a local NGO dedicated to water conservation. Inspired by the villagers’ determination, the NGO provided technical expertise and additional resources to help restore the well. Together, the villagers and the NGO worked hand in hand, deepening the well, constructing a new filtration system, and ensuring that the water would be safe for drinking.

Finally, after months of hard work, the well began to fill with water once again. The entire village gathered for the momentous occasion as the first buckets of water were drawn from the well. Cheers and tears of joy filled the air as the villagers celebrated their success. What was once a symbol of scarcity had been transformed into a source of life.

The restored well now provides clean, accessible water to over 300 families in the village, drastically improving their quality of life. Pooja, the schoolteacher who had spearheaded the initiative, was hailed as a local hero, though she humbly attributed the success to the collective effort of the entire village.